


Incandescent

by Ceris_Malfoy



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Manga), Sailor Moon - All Media Types, Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: F/M, I seriously don't know what the hell this is, but i like it, faerytale style, semi-prose, semi-serious crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:30:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceris_Malfoy/pseuds/Ceris_Malfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And though she did not love him, nor did she offer her love unto him, he was content with what she could give, for in a bond such as what they were forming, love was as inevitable as the next collapse of the universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incandescent

**I**

He had drifted for untold eons, unable to die, unable to rest. The universe around him contracted and expanded, over and over again; dying and giving rebirth to itself, each time coming back fundamentally the same, but just a little different then it had been previously.

He existed beyond the universe's touch, unable to be die with it and just as unable to be reborn. Do to this, he often found himself drifting to the center point of the universe – the one point that never changed. In this one place, all life was collected and sent out to respawn as it would. It was a place of warmth and light; it was a place where no matter what he did, he was welcomed back. There was a Presence there, curiously feminine in feel, though he never heard nor saw Her. She welcomed him back to Her side with a detached, gentle sadness, as if grieved that he was outside Her realm of influence, unable to be sent out to be reborn like the rest of Her charges.

He was not alone in this place. There were other sparks there, just as disembodied as he was, though they were not of the same make as he. And how could they be, when his own race was dead and gone, erased from the universe as if they had never even existed? All of these sparks were weak and unaware, dim and small. The few that _were_ aware avoided him; his own turbulent brilliance driving them away.

**II**

Had he been any other being, he might have stayed in that place of warmth and light and welcome. But he was by nature a curious and mischievous being, and often left to discover what new changes the universe's rebirth had spawned. Curiously, though his own race had been seemingly erased from the universe's blueprints, the human race was one that continuously respawned, though their genetics and history changed with each rebirth. He enjoyed entertaining himself by possessing the humans and causing as much mayhem, mischief, and glorious chaos as he could before his strength would leave him and he'd have to evacuate his host. Sometimes he would stay and watch the aftermath of his possessions, however he usually chose to retreat back to the place of light and warmth where he'd be welcomed back by the Presence with the same detached, gentle sadness alongside exasperated fondness.

**III**

There was no sense of time in his bodiless state. During what could have been the 60th rotation of the universe's existence, but could have just as easily been the 6,000th, something happened. Something broke the endless routine he had made for himself.

It was a light, a spark. It was gentler than his own, but no less strong, no less bright. He was aware of that spark on a fundamentally primal level – it was beyond his awareness of the others. It was soft and silver and beautiful. It fascinated him, though he was hesitant to approach it. He could not bear the thought that the other spark was like the others in that it was unaware, and so deemed it safer to not find out. By staying apart from that spark, he could pretend that it was just as aware, just as uncertain of him as he was of it.

And just as suddenly as it had appeared, it disappeared. His existence as a bodiless spark had not tempered his emotions at all, and so he raged silently, his fury obvious in the incandescent spikes of flaring power that radiated off his spark. The Presence did all She could to soothe him, but he was beyond Her power, just as he had always been, and always would be. The other weak lights around him fled in droves.

His fury only abated when the soft-strong spark returned, slightly more intense in its level of brightness, but still gentle and soothing. Again, he lost himself in his awareness of that spark, entranced by its simplistic beauty and quiet strength. And again, it disappeared, and again he was enraged beyond his own comprehension.

**IV**

His existence formed a new pattern.

The spark would appear, each time stronger, brighter, and more intense; tightly compacted and powerful beyond what even his own bodiless senses could comprehend, but never loosing that wondrously soothing gentleness and warmth. And each time, he would 'watch' that spark like a besotted sparkling, basking distantly in its warmth and serenity. And then the spark would leave, and his existence would seem cold and his fury would awaken to fill the sudden emptiness that claimed him.

**V**

The last time the silver spark appeared, it was flickering as if flinching, whirling in combined pain and horror and fear and panic. It flittered to and fro, uncertain and unsure, as if its arrival here had been unintended and unwanted. He had been unable to stay away; he felt compelled to bring it comfort and soothe it the way it had once soothed him. With determined pulses he traversed the distance between them faster than he had been able to fly when he had been whole and alive.

He was not the only one striving to reach the spark though – another light, brilliant in its intense power but strangely weak and ineffective, as if it had long ago forgotten how to use that power, was determinedly trying to reach the silver spark first. For the first time in his long existence, he truly felt the power of the Presence; She nudged him forcefully, pushing him right into the silver spark.

For a brief moment, he felt horrified – he'd _never_ meant to touch the spark, as touching the spark of another without consent was the one taboo even the vilest of his race had never broken; he had only meant to soothe its fear and panic. But then he was lost in the meld of two beings, an act which between two who consented was deemed sacred and beautiful amongst his own. Distantly he was aware of a female voice screaming out in disbelief and anger, and the white spark attempting to knock him away from the silver spark, but the Presence wrapped Herself around them both, shielding them and protecting them, and the other could not touch them. All this was only distant, however.

Most of him was enraptured with the femme's spark he had been knocked into. Strength and power and the willingness to fight for what she believed in tempered and honed by her ability to forgive easily and love in totality, and her ability to adapt to the hand fate had dealt her. She loved another, had hoped to bond as such with that other, but when confronted with this unintentional bonding, she did not hesitate past the first taste of the loneliness and bitterness of his eternal existence and the wonderment with which he had beheld her spark for countless years. She opened herself to him and welcomed him and cherished him and forgave him for his unintentional part in destroying what dreams she had had. And though she did not love him, nor did she offer her love unto him, he was content with what she could give, for in a bond such as what they were forming, love was as inevitable as the next collapse of the universe.

**Author's Note:**

> Umm… this is what happens when I'm forced to listen to a crusty old man read the Thomas Covenant books for three weeks on end. No dialogue; this is meant to be a semi-prose fairytale of sorts. 
> 
> When someone first mentioned the idea of me doing a BSSM/G1!TF crossover, I originally balked. Though I dearly love both series, I haven't written BSSM fanfiction in ages, nor have I read the manga or watched the anime. Though I still draw fanart for the series, I haven't been involved with it enough to remember the specific kinds of details one would need to reliably mash two such different worlds together. And then I started to actually think about it. And I thought, and I thought, and eventually I decided it could be done, it would be done, and it would be the most awesome CRACK-fic I've ever written. Unfortunately, thanks to the three weeks of torture, I found myself taking the challenge a little too seriously. This is the result.
> 
> Originally posted on Fanfiction.net.


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